Logan was not nearly as drunk as he wanted to be when Minako's ex-boyfriend walked into the bar. He hadn't had that much, so he was still perfectly in control of his faculties and still fully capable of remembering how sincere Minako's warnings had been. He wasn't even drunk enough to feel good. He wasn't even drunk at all. He was barely buzzed.
Takehiko sat down next to him, perfectly calmly. Still, some of the other patrons were instantly wary, getting up and moving as far away from the pair as they could. It did not go unnoticed by either man.
"You sure know how to clear a room," Logan observed grimly.
“You’d be surprised how often someone makes that observation,” Takehiko responded coolly.
Logan stared at him for a moment, looking him up and down. He suddenly became more aware of just how tall this man was. He towered over Logan even though they were sitting, and Logan was hardly small in stature. He also thought that Takehiko looked more solid sitting amidst the smoke and other broken shells of men by comparison. Logan swallowed and looked away, feeling inadequate again.
“Did you and Mina have a nice chat?” Logan asked testily, wanting very much to throw a punch but also wanting to live to see the next morning.
Takehiko merely looked at him for a moment, his eyebrow raised. He was about to speak when Logan preempted him.
“You know who you remind me of?” Logan asked, suddenly changing the subject.
“I’m sure you’ll be more than happy to tell me,” Takehiko said, and when he said it, it didn’t sound at all impatient or rude. Logan found it somewhat maddening.
“Fucking Sephiroth.”
Takehiko looked at him for a moment and then nodded. “I had a feeling you say that.”
“You get that a lot too?” Logan asked.
Takehiko nodded in ascent. “I suppose I should be grateful that I remind people of a good-looking psychopath.”
“It’s the white hair,” Logan said. “Have you thought about dying it?”
Takehiko hesitated before answering, long enough for Logan to guess what he was thinking. He laughed out loud and pointed at him. “You’ve tried, haven’t you! You tried to dye your hair! Oh, that’s… that’s fucking hilarious, man.”
“The dye won’t take,” Takehiko admitted, glancing over at Logan.
Though nothing in his tone suggested it, when Logan’s giggle fit subsided and he opened his eyes, he thought he could see something in Takehiko’s gaze that he wasn’t saying. Something that vaguely resembled the statement, “I’d put that finger away if you’re at all attached to it.” It wasn’t the sort of thing he would ever threaten aloud, and Logan wasn’t even certain he was being threatened. He still put his hand down as a precaution.
“It’s not just the white hair,” Logan said. “You’re… fucking terrifying.”
Takehiko shrugged casually. “I have been told that I can be imposing. I’ve also been told by a friend with very colorful language skills that I could make Satan shit a brick. Personally, I don’t give it much thought.”
Logan didn’t know quite how to respond to that, so he took the opportunity to ask the bartender for another drink. Takehiko declined service, and Logan wasn’t at all shocked when the burly man tending the bar gave him no trouble. A few more minutes passed after Logan had gotten his drink, downing it one swig. Finally, Logan spoke again.
“You kissed her,” Logan said quietly. “Didn’t you?”
Much to Logan’s surprise, Takehiko didn’t deny it. “I did.”
Logan winced, looking down at the bar’s dirty floor. He had known it. He’d known it from the moment Takehiko walked in the door. There weren’t any tell-tale signs like lipstick on his color or her perfume, but Logan had known. Maybe Minako had some sort of effect on men that other men she had in her sway could sense from afar. Or maybe Logan was just paranoid. He couldn’t be sure. All he knew for certain was that he felt guilty and miserable and that he wanted to go back to that morning and suggest that he and Minako suddenly move to New York or Timbuktu or anywhere else Takehiko would not have come to.
“Do you love her?” Logan questioned, upset at the amount of emotion in his voice.
Takehiko didn’t answer immediately, looking away from Logan to think. He furrowed his brow, shifting a bit in his seat. “I think it would be premature to admit to that,” Takehiko said finally, choosing his words carefully.
“Did you love her?” Logan amended. “Back then?”
Takehiko smiled slightly, nostalgic. “I wasn’t supposed to. But I did.”
Logan raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t supposed to? What the hell does that mean?”
Takehiko considered his answer for a second. “There’s more to this than you know and more than I think you want to know. You can ask her about it, but good luck getting it out of her. But I can say with certainty that… I don’t think any man is supposed to fall in love with her. Not if they ever hope to be sane again.”
Logan stared at him for a moment, struck by the profound truth of the statement. He shook his head and muttered, “Ain’t that the truth… I don’t know how I ever expected a fucking Succubus to help me.”
Takehiko chuckled quietly. “You think she’s a sex demon?”
“It would explain a hell of a lot,” Logan said, downing his third drink for the night.
“Aino Minako is many things,” Takehiko said, momentarily confusing Logan with the Eastern way of saying names. “But a demon she is not.” He paused. “She’s worse than that.”
“What could be worse than a demon?” Logan questioned.
Takehiko looked at him very seriously and said, “She’s one of the few people who can kill demons.”
In spite of the impossibility of his statement, Logan couldn’t help but believe him, though the alcohol probably had a bit to do with that. He shook his head and looked forward, his shoulders slumping. He didn’t speak again for a moment, but when he did, he didn’t say anything that surprise.
“I hate you,” Logan said, his voice trembling.
Once again, Takehiko didn’t seem the least bit phased by the statement. “I know,” he said. Then he got up and left Logan alone in the bar with his demons and his demon killers and his sorrows that he very quickly drowned.
Later, Logan would think that they were both actually very predictable men.
